Taken by the Wildmen
by HermioneSpencer
Summary: Both Taken by the Wildmen for seeing things they shouldn't have, Hermione and Draco are trying to escape, but Draco has had his mind wiped completely, with no idea who he is. Hermione is the only one who can help him, but the more time she spends with Draco, the more she realises that there may be more to the "foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach" she thought she knew. ON HOLD
1. Prologue: The Rivers

Hello everyone! This is my first story that I have written that I plan to make a long story (biggest thing I have ever done!). This story is for DancingChestnut, who left such lovely reviews on my previous stories, that I decided to write this for her, as her favourite pairing is Dramione. This is foreign ground for me, and I did A LOT of research for this... so, this is what I came up with! Please Review, and I hope you enjoy the prologue!

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The journey was silent. It was painful. It was long. It had to be. If it wasn't, Lucius was sure that the Death Eaters would find them, whether or not the Potter Boy had killed the Dark Lord. They would find him for deserting them. They would kill him, and his wife and son. They had wanted to apparate to their distant relatives in France, but they had to walk.. They didn't really have a choice – each of them had lost theirs - the Dark Lord had taken Lucius' and it had been broken by Potter, who had also taken Draco's wand at Malfoy Manor, and Narcissa had given her wand to Draco for him to borrow, who had then lost it in a certain "Room of Requirement", whatever that may have been. So, they had no wand between them, so they had to go by foot. They were acting like Muggles, and that disgusted him. He shivered at what his father, Abraxas Malfoy would have to say about him now.

The same question was bugging him – was the Dark Lord dead, or had Potter been killed instead? He didn't know. He didn't know enough. In fact, the only thing he _did_ know was that they were in a forest, somewhere nine miles south of Hogsmeade and were not travelling fast enough. He looked up at the sky – or what he could see of it through the dark green canopy of the tree leaves – and saw that the sky was turning lighter. That must mean that it was the 3rd of May, and by an uneducated guess, around seven o'clock in the morning. Lucius was tired. His feet ached, and if he had not had the cane he was famous for, to lean on, then he knew the perpetual wound on his right leg would not hold his weight. He and his family had been walking without stopping for at least four hours.

The cane had other uses, for example holding his wand within it, giving it the Sneak Attack, which allowed him to block and cast spells at the same time, but the main use was to help Lucius stand up, which he would not be able to do without it due to the wound he got when he first joined the Death Eaters. He had not done his task properly, and so he was punished. Nagini had nicked him – not enough to kill him with her poison, but enough for the nick she had given him to grow and spread, infecting his whole leg. Voldemort had made him swear to an Unbreakable Vow to never getting it treated at St. Mungo's, or it might have compromised their secrecy. Not that the Death Eaters weren't open about themselves in the 1970s – the First Wizarding War had started then, and they were dark times, with murders every day.

Lucius grunted heavily as he stood on a small rock and pain shot up his leg like it was being consumed by Fienfyre. He breathed in sharply, but carried on, knowing that they could not afford to stop, or be heard by anyone. He had tried to get that across to his wife and son, but still they dragged their feet and tripped on tree roots and slowed them down, in essence. Draco had been the worst for it, and had fallen over many times during these long four hours. Every time Draco made any unnecessary noise, Lucius raised his cane and struck his son, on the face to see exactly what damage he did. He glanced to his right where his son limped with his head looking down at his feet, as if begging them not to tip him up again. Malfoy smiled, and knew that Draco's red, bleeding, bruised face had taught him a lesson. Maybe they might just make it to the nearest Wizarding Village during the day, Killin. Just then, his wife, on his left, fell down, limp and frail. He snarled. The boy was just beginning to stop this foolhardiness, when his wife begins! He bent down stiffly, grabbed her by the collar of her dress robes with his left hand, and drew his right arm back with the cane. Narcissa muffled a scream into her sleeve, and pulled away, dropping to cower by a tree trunk. He took a step towards her, and drew his cane back once more. When he swung it back to hit his wife, he was a little startled as there was something that was holding it back. He swivelled around on his left leg, being unable to use his right freely, to see his son holding on to the other end of the cane, his face screwed up with rage, the wounds from Lucius' cane contorting his face.

"Let go, boy, so that I can show your mother that we can't afford to fall down." Lucius snapped, pulling on the cane to free it from his son's grip, but Draco would not let it go.

"No. You can hit me as much as you like, but you are not going to hit my mother. Can't you see that she's tired? We have not slept for two days! We were gathering troops for the Dark Lord, then we were in the Battle, and then we ran away!"

"Exactly. We deserted the Death Eaters. They will be coming for us. Looking for us. Whether or not the Dark Lord is dead, we deserted them, and the ones that are still alive will be looking for revenge. We have to move on. Now let go." Lucius saw the flicker of apprehension on his son's face, but it was gone a second later, back to rage, but with added hatred.

"No. The only reason they would be following us would be because of you. You made mother and I do what you told us since the day I was born! I would never have become the wreck that I am now if it weren't for you! Look at me! Look at US! We are outcasts! Malfoys! Everyone hates the name now, because you couldn't just stick to one side! No, you have to flit between the two, currying favour with the Minister, then running back to the Dark Lord when you realise he returned! No wonder we are hated by everyone – they all know that you will run to the strongest person, and you have no loyal bones in your body! I hate this, father! I want no more part in this!"

Lucius' eye twitched at the onslaught of words, but he recovered swiftly. He pulled as hard as he could on the cane in his hand, and it pulled out of Draco's grip. Lucius then began repeatedly hitting Draco, this time he didn't care where, he just wanted to hit his son and get rid of the anger flaring up inside him. Draco grunted with every hit, and tried to drag himself using only his arms, his legs now numb. Lucius struck him once more on the head, and then, Draco was still. He breathed raggedly, and stood still, watching to see whether Draco moved again. He didn't. He then turned to face his wife. Only then did he realise that she was screaming and calling out Draco's name, crawling to get to her son, yet slow with fatigue. Lucius seethed. Did they not get that he was tired too? Why didn't they understand that he was doing this for them? The Death eaters would find them, and then kill them all! Or worse, subject them to pain for the rest of their lives! Why didn't they understand this? He tried to save his – and their – skins, and their thanks was to be ungrateful, snivelling worms, crying that they were tired when they all were! He saw his real wife for the first time. She didn't care about him! He realised then, that she never did. All the past years of his life flew by him, and in every memory of Narcissa, he could see hate written in everything she did, aimed at him. He felt spurned. He wanted to hurt her. Oh, yes, he felt so much hate in that one moment, that it was almost as if Lucius didn't exist anymore, he was just a container for a large ball of pure hatred. It took over him, and he was consumed by it, and _he _consumed _it._ They were one. Hatred, pure hatred. He struck his wife, knocked the air out if her lungs. He hit her again and again, and knew that she wished she was doing exactly the same thing to him.

"Lucius – Lucius – please!" she called out to him, crying with pain.

"Enough of you, woman! I fell into your trap before, but now my vision is clear, and I can see that you never loved me! And you tried your hardest to hate me your whole life!" He whacked her repeatedly, again, letting the cane hit her wherever, not really caring, just as long as she got hurt.

"Lucius! Stop! Lucius!" she screamed, her voice getting weaker and weaker. He didn't listen. Instead, he just hit her harder. Then, he was pushed over by something that came from his left. The thing hit _him_! He was being pummelled by this thing, and it was making his head hazy. He felt the cane being pulled out from under him, and he screamed deliriously when his cane was being used to strike his leg. Roaring pain flooded his head, and he couldn't take it. Seeing that hitting his leg was the best way to overcome him, they hit it repeatedly. Lucius screamed inhumanely, and it sent a shiver down his own spine. They gave one last almighty lash, and all Lucius could see was red, and too much of it. He gave a feeble choke, and he let the red overtake him, and he was taken away on the chaotic red river of pain that led him to a sharp slope. He let the furious flow lead him up, and then, he knew no more.

Draco looked down at the figure of his father lying still below him, and he put his hands to his head, dropping the cane. He felt an immense sense of relief, but at the same time, he knew that he could be sent to Azkaban for this. He had pretended to lie still so that his father would move away, but he had not thought about what his father would do next. He had tried to get up when he realised his mother was being beaten, but it had taken him too long. He looked desperately at his mother, and knelt beside her.

"Mother?" he asked gently, holding his tears back. Her eyes slowly moved to meet his, and she raised a hand to his face. She pulled his face to hers, and she kissed his cheek. He hugged her, and shook with the effort of trying not to cry.

"Mother… D-d-did you love him, M-mum?" Narcissa's eyes lit up at his use of the affectionate term, the first time he had ever done so. She looked at him, and nodded.

"I did, Draco. Very much." she whispered hoarsely. That just made it worse for Draco. He burst into sobs, knowing now that he had not been created by two people who hated each other. His father had not known.

"Mum, come on, we have to get to Killin by the end of today, or otherwise we'll die of thirst and hunger. Do you think you can stand up?" he asked, but already knowing the answer. He refused to think of it. His heart sank when his mother shook her head feebly. He swallowed, and it hurt his face, somehow. Maybe it was the salt of his tears on his wounds. He didn't know.

"Are you sure, Mum?" he asked hopelessly. She nodded. He continued.

"Well then, can you do something for me, Mum, when you… see Father again?" he choked.

"Anything for you, Draco. You're my brave boy! What do you want me to do?" Narcissa stumbled and struggled through those three tiny sentences. It broke Draco's heart.

"Can you – can you tell him – that you loved him, so that – so that he knows? Could you tell him that?" he cried, finding this harder than anything he had ever done before. To watch his mother die in front of him, by the hands of the man she loved… it was too much for him. He hugged his mother tighter, and she tightened her arms feebly about him. She looked a mess, and he knew that she was in pain – much more than he, and he was in a lot of pain. But Narcissa had the emotional pain as well, knowing that she was leaving her son, and that she was killed by the man she loved. Draco wept, harder than he had ever wept before. And Narcissa stroked his white blond hair, not caring that it was matted with blood. He was still beautiful to her, blood or no. Narcissa found the calm white river, and her journey was longer than Lucius'. She had more time in this world, but not much more. The river began the long yet gentle slope upwards, peaceful and happy. She stroke Draco's hair in time with the gentle rocking of her boat, knowing this was her last hour.

Draco fell asleep in her arms, and Narcissa fell asleep too, but only one awoke.

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Well, if you've made it this far, I must have kept your interest! (That's quite exciting, actually) Thank you for reading, and please review, because it makes me a happy person! Thank you!


	2. Chapter 1 In Which Things Begin to Begin

Hey readers, this chapter is set 9 years after the Prologue, so therefore, in 2007. Hermione is now working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry. I will say nothing more, apart from this: Dramione "shippers", don't worry! And for everyone: the story begins to perk up in the next chapter… Enjoy!

~2007~ (9 years later)

Hermione yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. She slumped back into her office chair, and let her eyes close for a minute. Working in Magical Law Enforcement was not easy, not to mention all of the old laws that Kingsley Shacklebolt had dug out for her to sort through. They had a meeting later on in the day – what time? She opened one eye and glanced at her plan that she had laid out that morning. Oh, yes, it was at half past four that he was coming. Hermione sighed and sat back up straight. She had better get the work for tomorrow sorted out. She had nothing else to do – she had already sorted through the laws, organised the meetings for a month ahead, files the folders, dusted the old folders and everything else! She had even felt so bored this morning that she had been exchanging love notes between herself and Ron, and some of them made her blush! She was glad that they had stopped jumping for the other's throat now.

It made her life so much easier without having to go through what Ginny had dubbed "Hermargumons" which was a shortened form of "Ron and Hermione are arguing again, run for your lives, don't go anywhere near them!" which had happened often enough that the Weasleys and Potters (again, dubbed by Ginny: the Wotters) had had to say something which everyone understood in a matter of seconds. But they hadn't argued in at least a year, which was quite amazing, frankly. A knock at the door dragged Hermione out of her reverie, and she swivelled her head to see the clock, but she hadn't been dreaming for the last few hours, just a few minutes or so.

"Come in" she called out, and in came her secretary, Dustafon Lansinger with the most peculiar expression on his face.

"Miss Granger, we have received some very disturbing reports from the Wizarding Village just South of the Forest by Gloucester… uum, yes, the Forest of Dean they said. Yes, just below that… a village called Saint Briavels… Yes, that's right. Um, Marianne Squibble requests that you check in with her so that you can go over the details. She told me to inform you that it is confidential." Dustafon blurted all of that out in one long breath and once he was done, he took a huge gulp of air. He was a short man, and quite podgy. He was rather old and his memory was failing him slightly, but he was so sweet that you couldn't help but like him. Hermione stood up and replied,

"Thank you, Dustafon, but how many times do I have to tell you that Hermione is fine, not Miss Granger!" she laughed gently, but Dustafon looked horrified at the suggestion.

"Such discourtesy, to the Lady that saved the Wizarding World? Oh no, Miss Granger, such improprieties would not do!" she laughed, mostly to herself and said,

"I didn't save the Wizarding World, Dustafon. I just… I just wanted to make the world a better place for the people I love. That was it, really." She shrugged. "But, anyway, thank you for letting me know. I shouldn't keep Marianne waiting. She is my boss, after all!" And so she left her office – quite gladly – and made her way to Marianne Squibble's office, which was just along the corridor.

She knocked on Marianne's door and waited for a reply. Marianne herself opened the door, and led Hermione in, saying

"I am afraid that I have some terrible news, Hermione. I'm sorry that I didn't send a flying memo, but I couldn't risk it being intercepted. So, let me fill you in. Marianne gave a swish of her wand, and a map made of small particles appeared out of thin air. It was a map of the West of England, and it was focused just West of the City of Gloucester. Hermione breathed in sharply. The map was showing the Forest of Dean, the place where Ron had come back to her, the place where she had realised that she loved him. What on Earth could be going on in such a beautiful place that had to be confidential and secret?

"As you may know, this is the forest of Dean. West of Gloucester, it is a very popular forest to visit by many of the British citizens, be they Muggle or Magic. But we have received some bad news from the mayor of this village here. Marianna flicked her wand, and the particles moved to make a sort of projected image of a tiny village.

"St. Braviels, yes? Dustafon told me." Hermione said to Marianna.

"So the idiot didn't forget everything, then? Hm. That's new." Hermione looked at Marianna and felt a new dislike growing for her. She looked back to the projection.

"Well, what did St. Braviels have to say about the Forest?" Hermione asked, impatient to know.

"They have told us, that one of their villagers went wandering in the forest, and didn't return for a week. When he returned, he told them tall tales of how he had seen wizards… slaughtering all manner of magical creatures. The most prominent animals there, being House-Elves. The young villager claimed that he even saw them slaughter an old man who had been unfortunate enough to be found by them. The Mayor brought in a Truth-Seeker, and they tested his memory. It was all true. They took images from his head, and it was more or less, a clearing with cages lining the circumference, with a campfire in the middle. The clearing is very large, around the size of… a muggle swimming pool? She flicked her wand again, and the image changed to what seemed to be the memory taken from the boy's head. Hermione gasped in horror. She saw grown men torturing animals, from House-Elves to Hippogriffs. She couldn't describe it, but the most prominent colour, was red. Fire was being used everywhere. Hermione stared at the wizards. Every one that had their face showing – all of their eyes were gleaming, like fire. They gleamed red, and Hermione was terrified.

"We have been ordered, as the Team representing the Law Enforcement, and you previously working in the Department of the Protection of Animals, to investigate the Forest. We will take a team of ten Aurors, and five other wizards or witches, including you and me. The other three are Roland Cambridge, Wednina Farndell, and Mylon Ford. I think that that covers it all. We will leave in five days time, so you have been given Wednesday afternoon and the rest of the week off work to allow you to pack, and on Monday next week, we shall leave. If you have any questions, please ask Mr Potter, the Head of the Auror Department, like you didn't know. That will be all."

Hermione got up, a little dazed, and left the office, closing the door behind her. She was being sent to a _slaughterhouse?_ She would die, for sure. Whatever life experience she had had with Harry and Ron… nothing helped her in this situation. She was going to _die!_ She had seen the boy's memory! It was a _Hell! _Then, she ran to the Auror Department, to question Harry to see whether he had anything to do with this, and also worried about what Ron would do to the person responsible for sending her to her death. All hell was going to break loose.

Thank you for reading – I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, I hope I can get the same result next chapter! If you didn't, let me know, and I will try to improve it! Please review, because I love getting feedback, and it helps me to improve. Again, thanks for reading, and have a good morning/day/afternoon/evening/night!


	3. Chapter 2 A Change in Fortune

Hey readers, hope you enjoy this latest update. Thank you soo much to DancingChestnut and jappy13 who reviewed. It made me smile to see that people had given up their time to tell me what they thought. And also, thank you to everyone who has favourite and/or followed this story – Ireally really appreciate it.

Now on to the story! This chapter is set on the same day as the previous chapter.

The wind blew, from the North. It was a cold, freezing wind, and it was strong, and blew everything out of place. The wind blew on, carrying leaves and the odd plastic bag, towards the South. It blew through London, picking up smoke and soot. It blew past Aberdeen, Glasgow and Manchester. And still, it carried on, veering left and right, sometimes tailing right back to where it had just been. The wind didn't seem to mind, though. It merely seemed to want to blow women's skirts up, or carry away a sock that had been drying on the washing line, causing utter confusion to the victim family, who had no explanation for the missing sock. The wind blew and blew, gusted and gusted, and it seemed that it would never stop. It arrived at the city of Gloucester, and seemed to get stronger, as if it had a score that needed settling with the city.

Draco's cloak flapped in the wind, and he pulled it around himself to stop it from letting too much of the biting air get under his clothes. He shivered as the wind swept his white blonde hair out of place, disturbing its usual brushed back and sleeked style. Not that he really cared. He didn't care about much, anymore. Not since the Battle of Hogwarts, as he had heard it was called now. All the fight had gone from him, the day his mother died. He breathed in the air through his nose and let the slightly painful sensation in his sinus be a reprimand for what a wasted life had had led. He looked around him and sighed, watching the vapour that cascaded out of his mouth. He was standing on a bank by the river, just outside Gloucester, facing west.

He stood up straight, his legs locked to stop himself from being swayed by the violent wind. He could just let go, and let the river take him. It would be easy. Just to release the tension in legs was the simplest way to die. He thought about it for a moment, and decided to see whether it _was_ as easy as he thought. He slowly unlocked his joints, until they were just on the edge. He breathed in again, this time through his mouth. His hair was whipping to the side of his head, and he let the cloak go, allowing it to flap wildly, leaving his legs shaking with cold.

He was being pushed by the wind, and he let his legs go slacker. He stumbled to the edge of the bank, and then he felt a moment of panic. But then, he convinced himself, that really, there was no point going on. What had he left to fight for? He had never had anything before, apart from the name Malfoy, which really didn't amount to the price of butter anymore. He had wasted his life. He blamed his Father. He closed his eyes, and let the wind push him into the icy cold water. It was freezing, but he stopped himself from spluttering. He sank, slowly, and he ignored the feeling of his blood freezing. The light got darker from what he could see through his eyelids. Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled. There was the current, taking him away. The light was getting darker. Death by drowning. Or was it suffocation? He didn't really know – or care. So, this was death. The light really _was _getting brighter! So heaven existed then? Just then, he felt his head surface above the water, and he took a gulping breath. _Damn,_ he thought, _it was just getting to the good part. _He opened his eyes, and saw in front of him, a bearded man with grey hair, curly and short. He looked about fifty, and had a look of utter bewilderment on his face. He was dragged to the edge of the bank, and Draco pulled himself up and slumped on the edge, that was grassy and wet.

"How did you _do_ that?" the man asked, shaking his head.

"Do what?" Draco replied, just as confused as the bearded man was.

"Well – you – you're not – ah, never mind. This just proves that all films and books are lies." He said, shaking his head again, and he stood up.

"Was I supposed to do something?" Draco asked, nonplussed.

"No… it's just that… well… you didn't splutter! Or cough! Or anything! You seem perfectly calm for a person who was nearly drowned just a minute ago!" the bearded man replied, scratching his curly grey hair.

"Ah, well, you see, I didn't breathe once I got into the water. If I had, then I would have got water in my lungs, which makes you drown. You don't drown every time you swim, do you?" Draco explained. The bearded man nodded, and then held out a hand for Draco to pull himself up with. Draco accepted it, and soon he was standing next to the man, who was actually very tall, contradictory to what Draco had guessed he might be. Draco just matched his height with his own. He looked down at his clothes. They were covered in soil and grass, and he had a bit of water-weed tangled around his ankle.

"Well, I suppose I must thank you, seeing as you stopped me from drowning and all." Draco said, looking at the man.

"Ah, it was nothing. I used to be a Lifeguard in my teens. What's your name, by the way? I like to make a list of all the people who owe me a debt." He smiled, and his eyes twinkled with mirth. Draco laughed politely. He never really laughed anymore, but he found that in some cases, he had to, so that he didn't offend anyone, or make him look odd. He tried to avoid notice most of the time.

"My name is Draco." He didn't feel the need to give his second name. The man would just laugh at it anyway. Most people did. In the Muggle world, mostly.

"Cool name, dragon. My name is Geoffrey. Pleasure meeting you. And in such refreshing circumstances, as well." Geoffrey smiled, and pointed to their clothes. They were both soaked, completely and utterly. Draco only then realised that he was shivering like nobody's business. Geoffrey seemed to notice then as well.

"Come on, let's go to my boat and see if I can finds any spare clothes for you to wear. And maybe a cup of tea as well, to warm us up." Geoffrey pointed to something behind Draco.

"You have a boat? That's cool. And the offer is very generous of you." Draco said. He had never been on a boat before, besides the ones in his first year and this would be quite exciting. His father had never felt the need for family trips or the like. He was always at the Ministry, constantly currying favour with the most powerful wizard or with at that particular time. Draco resented him for that. Geoffrey led him along the bank and the wind whipped around still, and it made Draco's wet hair stand up, and it gave him a rather windswept look. Geoffrey's boat turned out to be the one nearest to them. It figured to Draco, because Geoffrey had to have been able to get to Draco before he drowned, so it must have been near.

Very soon, they were on a long canal boat that was named "Lucille", who Geoffrey said was the name of his wife who had passed away in a car crash. Draco felt quite proud that he understood what a car crash was. He had been living in the Muggle world for the past nine years, and had been learning about their way of life for some time. There was nothing for him in the Wizarding world – everyone hated the Malfoys. They each sat on a little sofa-like bed sipping on mugs of tea, Draco in some clothes that belonged to Geoffrey and Lucille's youngest son, Michael, who had left very recently. He wore a blue checked shirt with cotton trousers and Draco's own belt, which had surprisingly survived the water. Draco learned that Geoffrey's oldest and middle children were Annie, who was a dentist, and James, who was an historian. Michael was going to university in Oxford. They were a successful family, clearly. As a comfortable silence fell in the boat, Geoffrey said quietly,

"So, what is a good-looking boy like you doing, throwing himself into a river with a cape like a superhero?" Geoffrey asked, scratching at his beard.

Draco was silent for a few minutes, and then spoke with a careful choice of words.

"I have nothing left worth living for. I have been living homeless for the last nine years, and just yesterday I was rejected for a Homeless Project. My father murdered my mother when I was seventeen. I regret to say, I killed him. My mother was the only one who cared a jot for me, and I was then left with nothing. I have been wandering around Great Britain since then, trying to find _something_ I can live for, but I haven't found anything. Either that, or it's avoiding me." All through his monologue, Geoffrey listened, nodding his head. Once Draco had finished, Geoffrey pursed his lips for a moment, and then said,

"You know, Draco, I think that you're looking at it the wrong way. Yes, your Mum is dead, and your father was responsible, but that has given you life experience at a young age, and experience is invaluable. It makes you a stronger person. You have grieved long enough. Use the sadness, and forge it into something new. Don't let it wear you down, biting away at your soul! Give it a purpose! Forge it into a hammer, and find a target to hit with your hammer! Your first target: get a house. And that aim is done, because I am giving you a bed in my boat – no, don't argue, I can see you're desperate. The second goal I would believe, is finding a job. I can help you there. I have a friend. He works in the forest on this side of the river. The Forest of Dean. He helps preserve it and plant new things – he's been looking for an assistant and now he has one. In fact, he's supposed to be coming over tonight, so you'll have a chance to meet him then. Now, tell me, Draco. What is your next goal?"

Draco felt rather baffled at the barrage of words, but he recovered. He would be living with a _muggle!_ What would his father say about him? He didn't care. Draco thought to himself for a moment.

"Ummm," he said, closing his eyes to think hard, "I think that it would be to find myself again. I'm not the same person as I was ten years ago. In part, that's a good thing, because I wasn't very nice, but… I've forgotten how to laugh. Yes, that's it, my next goal is to relearn emotions."

If Geoffrey was surprised, he didn't show it – his face was the same pensive look he had taken since first hearing Draco's story.

"Well, how do you think you're going to that then? How will you get about it?" Geoffrey asked, leaning his head to the side.

"Well, I suppose that I will have to just expose myself to people. I haven't spoken to a person face to face apart from you in… I think it may be three years. I have shut myself away. I need to open myself up again, and soak in humanity." Draco was quite shocked that he was actually answering these questions himself.

"There we go then-" Geoffrey was interrupted by a young woman in her twenties, walking down into the boat. Geoffrey got up and exclaimed,

"Annie, my darling! Why is it that you've come all the way here?"

The tall, slim brunette with a rucksack on her back replied with an affectionate smile playing on her face,

"Does a loving daughter need a reason to visit her lovely daddy?" and she gave him a tight hug, and that was when she saw Draco, sipping tea from a mug, and looking down at the floor, trying to avoid notice. _I mustn't do this! I need to open myself up! Let people in!_ he thought to himself, frustrated at his failure to keep a goal going for two minutes. He forced himself to look at her, and was surprised by her beauty. She had large, friendly eyes in a longish face with ears that were slightly pointed at the top. Her body was curvaceous and pleasant to look at.

"Dad, you haven't been recruiting for your Wizards Awareness Group, have you?" she said, looking at Draco with an impish grin, but speaking to Geoffrey. Draco spluttered and spilt a bit of tea and some dribbled down his chin. He hastily wiped it away.

"W-Wizards Awareness Group?" he asked cautiously, looking questioningly at Annie for an explanation.

"Yes, Dad is adamant that wizards exist, and he set up a group a couple of years after Mum died. I don't know what proof he has – he certainly hasn't shown _me_ any! – but he and his hippie friends are convinced of it! He says they have their own government, and everything, but that's just ludicrous. Don't you agree?" Annie walked over and poured herself a mug of tea, and sat opposite Draco.

Draco laughed nervously, and said, "Oh. Yes. Quite ludicrous. Of course." He said uncomfortably. He wasn't sure which was more surprising; how Geoffrey had such a distractingly beautiful daughter, or how Geoffrey knew about wizards. Either way, Geoffrey was a very surprising man.

Geoffrey piped up,

"You want proof? I'll show you proof!" and he bustled off down the length of the boat, to a bookshelf that was full of books. Geoffrey tugged at a very old looking book that was bound in a very familiar way to Draco, the Wizard way. It reminded him of the Hogwarts library, and he remembered the time when he had first stepped into it.

_It was rather exciting going into the library for the first time. His father had a bigger library at home, even though he was never really allowed in. Draco supposed that that was the beauty of this library – he could read everything in it! He breathed in the smell of books and it was rather a thrill for him. He looked around, and was a little surprised to see a girl with wild hair doing exactly the same thing! Breathing in the air, and looking around! When she spotted him looking at her, he sneered at her, to cover up the fact that he had been admiring her face. She looked terrified and hurried away down the nearest aisle. A second later she hurried back out again, and Draco wondered why. He took a look down it and saw two fifth year students kissing quite passionately. He rolled his eyes and tried to find a good aisle to find books. He strolled around the library and sniggered when he heard Madam Pince shouting at the two kissing fifth years to get out of her library and drink an abstinence potion. He turned a corner and bumped into the bushy haired girl who was carrying an enormous pile of books already. She had dropped the pile on the floor as he knocked into her._

"_Watch where you're going, Haystack!" he snapped, and pushed her out of the way. She apologised hurriedly, and began to pick up the dropped books. Draco sighed and took a quick look around. No one was there, so he bent down and helped her pick the dropped books up._

"_Thanks" the girl murmured, and hurried away, but Draco pulled her back, and dragged her into the aisle, to avoid notice._

"_You won't tell _anyone_ about this, alright?" he asked, although it wasn't really a question. She looked at him quizzically, but said slowly,_

"_Nobody at all…" she said slowly._

"_Um… anyone asks you about me… tell them some _really_ bad stuff. Yeah?" again, it wasn't really a question. The girl looked really confused, but she nodded._

"_I'm Draco, by the way. Draco Malfoy."_

"_H-Hermione Granger," the girl replied._

"_See you 'round, Granger" he said, and then slipped away, to find something to read._

Draco was pulled out of his reverie as Geoffrey dropped the book in Draco's lap. Draco was startled and hurriedly moved his mug away to stop the tea from spilling on the book. He put the mug on the table, and wiped his hand on his shirt to dry it, and then read the cover of the book. Draco covered up a sharp intake of breath with a cough. This book was _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot!

"Where did you get this, sir?" Draco asked Geoffrey, trying, with mixed results, to mask his shock. He became even more shocked after he realised that he had called Geoffrey 'sir'. Since when had he _ever_ shown _anyone_ such respect other than his father and his father's Ministry friends? Annie narrowed her eyes curiously at him. Clearly his attempts at covering his shock hadn't worked.

"Haha! 'Sir'! Please, just call me Geoffrey," Geoffrey said, "but, errrmm… I believe I found it in an old bookshop I visited… somewhere in London… the bookshop owner said that he found a whole load of these books in a suitcase left at King's Cross. All the others had been sold though. But this really is _fascinating! _Take a look at it! Read it!"

"I-I don't need to… I've already read it…" he said. Geoffrey exclaimed,

"Really? Listen to that, Annie!" and Annie rolled her eyes.

"Another wizard fanatic! The world is mad!"

Draco was very relieved when another person came into the boat, supposedly Geoffrey's friend who was looking for the assistant, as it saved him from having to explain himself. The rest of the day was spent cooking and chatting and making arrangements for Draco and his new job. His name was Ben, and he laughed more than anyone else Draco had ever known or heard of. Draco found himself with a lighter heart than he had felt in years, and he began to forget all of the troubles that had been weighing his shoulders down. Annie was the main reason, really – he found himself fascinated by her ears, pointed and graceful. They had such a fascinating shape! She was also so easy to talk to, and he felt totally comfortable with her.

The dinner was delicious, and Draco felt proud to say he had helped in the making of it. It was the biggest meal he had eaten in a long time, and after a relatively small portion compared to the others, he was full and couldn't eat anything else.

Soon, the topic came up of the real reason as to why Annie had visited. She held her breath for a moment, and then said,

"I have a new practice opened! My own company!" her news was a bombshell. Geoffrey jumped up and started to dance a jig, which made the boat shake unnervingly and made Draco's stomach feel a little uncomfortable for the first time. Geoffrey opened a bottle of champagne and shared it all around. Celebrations lasted well into the night, and Draco got very drunk. He loosened up, though, and as well as feeling the most light-hearted than ever before, he was also the most relaxed that he ever felt in… in forever! Ben left at some time around midnight, but Annie was staying on one of the beds in the boat. Draco fell asleep thinking about how much his life had turned for the better. He felt undeserving of such good luck. He drifted off, unable to describe how wonderful he felt, although that may have had a little to do with the champagne and the wine that was opened after that, all six bottles...

Thanks for reading! Please review – I reply to them all – and it would make me SO happy! :D


	4. Chapter 3 Haircut

Hey readers, this chapter is more or less to give you a bit more of an insight on what happened to Draco after his parents died. To all of those Dramione lovers reading this, I apologise in advance… you'll see soon. A big thank you to DancingChestnut for your wonderful reviews, they make my day – no scrap that – my life! I can die happy. This chapter is a little bit of a filler-in, but I promise you that things will pick up in the next chapter! Please review! (I reply to them all)

Draco woke with a slightly groggy head, and a terribly sore stomach. He figured that it was because his body wasn't used to the amount of food that he had eaten last night, and he had eaten a _lot!_ During his time in poverty, Draco imagined his stomach must have quartered in size. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and sat up from the surprisingly comfortable bed he had slept in last night. He suddenly felt a desperate need to use the toilet, so he went on a wander around the boat, trying to remember where he had found it last night. He had been a little tipsy then, so things were slightly hazy. But only slightly. At last, he found the bathroom and he slipped inside, locking the door behind him. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and Draco didn't recognise the man he saw in front of him. It wasn't even a man – more of a ghost! His hair was long, and this morning, it was uncombed, messy and very, very unwashed. He had quite a bit of stubble, because he hadn't shaved in a while, and he resolved to shave it when he had the kit. What scared Draco the most was his eyes. They were grey around the edges and sunken, the evidence of many sleepless nights. His eyes were a silvery-grey, but they had… an _intensity_ that he had never noticed before. But that was understandable – the last time he had looked in a mirror was at least five years ago. His face looked pretty dirty, so he decided to go and ask Geoffrey if he had anything that Draco could wash with. He didn't want _anyone_ seeing him like this and was almost embarrassed to think that his new boss, Ben, had seen him and decided to say nothing. And as for Annie… Draco didn't want to even think about what she must think of him, besides Wizard Fanatic.

Washed, cleaned, dressed, shaved and totally fresh, Draco walked out of the bathroom and narrowly avoided walking straight into Annie, who had opened a door opposite, making a little sandwich with the two inside.

"Good morning, Blondie! I never noticed what a gorgeous colour your hair is. It's almost white! Can I touch it? I've never seen such a colour!" Annie said chirpily, smiling at him, supposedly unaware that they were almost pressed up to each other due to the doors and the very thin corridor. Draco nodded and bent his head a little for her. She lifted a hand up and touched his hair. Draco tried to focus on her eyes, but found his eyes drawn to her wonderful ears. He coughed, and ended up looking at the floor instead. He was glad she didn't mention the fact that his hair had only been washed today since a _long_ time before.

"It's so soft! You know, I might just hire you to sit in my new dental surgery every day, so that my patients that are waiting get to stroke your lovely hair." She joked, bringing her hand back down beside her.

"I'd be happy to!" he replied, trying to sound as if he _didn't _want her to carry on stroking his hair, or start kissing her ears.

"Dad's cooking breakfast in the dining area, so if you're hungry better head up that way," she said, pointing behind her. It turned out that Annie wanted a shower as well, so Draco and Annie manoeuvred themselves to swap places, but as the corridor was pretty narrow, they had a little bit of trouble doing so. The doors were very inconvenient and they pushed Draco and Annie right into each other and Draco found Annie's shapely ears right in front of his lips. He tried to resist temptation but couldn't, so grazed his lips against them. He felt a tingle down his spine.

"Did you just kiss my ear?" Annie asked, looking up at him, her eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion.

"Well you have very nice ears. I found I couldn't help myself." Draco replied sheepishly, looking down at the floor and not at her ears where he risked being a repeat offender.

Annie said, "Well, I suppose you let me stroke your hair. You do have very nice hair."

"You can stroke it again, if it will let me be forgiven. I don't want to be on the wrong side of a beautiful woman like you!" Annie laughed and then said,

"If I get to stroke it, you're forgiven."

"I am your humble servant." Draco said to the floor, his head still bent. Annie touched his hair again, but this time, she pulled his head up gently so that he was facing her. He didn't know how she could look at such a tired face. A face that was too tired for a usual 26 year old. She looked at him, and put a hand on his stubbly cheeks. Looked back at her and whispered "_forgive me_" as he leaned in and planted light kisses on her ear. It was strange – her ear _smelt_ nice! He put his arms around her and drew her in, pulling her closer to him. She didn't protest. He kissed her lips and parted them with his. Again, she put up no protest. Both of her hands were now in his hair, tugging at the roots slightly, and it felt very nice. Draco was the one that pulled away. He didn't want to do this to Annie. He wasn't a nice person, never had been and that was probably unable to change. Why had he even kissed her? He supposed that it was because he hadn't had such affection from another human being in a long time, and he was anxious to feel it again. Annie looked at him and her eyes seemed to be searching his. She pulled him into a tight hug and whispered,

"You need to stop beating yourself up. You're a lovely person, even if you do agree with my Dad on all this wizard rubbish. Why do you think I kissed you? Because I hate you? I've only known you for less than a day, and you've got me smitten already, even in your state. That must count for something." And then she slipped past him quite easily and closed the bathroom door. Draco was confused. Had he said any of that out loud? How had she known? Merlin's pants, what was going on? He shook his head and hurried to put his towel on the hook above his head, and followed the smell of food. He got to the dining area, and asked if Geoffrey needed any help.

"Oh, no m'boy. You just sit yourself down there, and I'll have your breakfast ready in a minute." True to his word, Draco and Geoffrey were tucking into a delicious fried breakfast in no time, and Draco marvelled at the taste. Sausages, bacon, eggs, hash browns, mushrooms, fried tomatoes, everything! He shovelled it down, ungracefully he knew, and grease dribbled down his chin. He didn't care because it tasted too good. By the time he had finished his plate, Geoffrey had only eaten one sausage and a bit of bacon. He felt a little uncomfortable with Geoffrey, having just kissed his daughter, but Draco did his best to ignore those feelings. He wasn't going to do it again. Annie was successful – a dentist. Just one look at him said enough. He wasn't successful. He'd been homeless for a large chunk of his life! Draco remembered something and said,

"I appreciate it, you know. Not telling the other two about me… taking a swim yesterday."

Geoffrey looked at him and said,

"I thought that if you wanted pity, you would have asked for it yourself. It's not up to me to make you look weak – your skinny arms and tiny waist do that already. But don't worry; with my food and your new job, you'll be back in shape in no time. Trust me; working in the Forest is tough work. Character building!"

Draco smiled. Geoffrey always managed to make bad subjects turn good somehow.

"And thank you for letting me stay here and getting me the job. Your help has been invaluable and I only met you yesterday!"

"Ah, think nothing of it! I have one more thing to do for you today."

"No, you can't possibly do anything else for me!" Draco blurted out, incredulous. _You've already introduced me to your daughter, and that's _more_ than enough!_ he thought. How could people be so generous? His father had been much better off than Geoffrey, but the only thing he had ever given freely was a beating or money to the Ministry, and only ever to the Ministry.

"I am going to take you to get a haircut. You cannot deny that you need it, and if you do deny it, then there's something wrong with you. You look like Shaggy out of Scooby-Doo, just with Fred's hair!"

"W-what is Scooby-Doo?" Draco asked, completely dumbfounded.

"Never heard of Scooby-Doo? You must be joking, lad! Only the most famous talking cartoon dog in a detective group! I suppose then, that you'll never have heard of Shaggy? Or Fred?" Draco shook his head and Geoffrey sighed.

Annie walked in just as Draco was beginning to master the ins and outs of the Muggle children's detective programme. Geoffrey was a big fan, clearly, and knew every episode and its name, but Annie saved Draco from having to learn those.

"Dad, leave the poor boy alone! Be happy that you have enlightened him about the show, but leave it at that!" Draco gave her a thankful look whilst trying to hide it from Geoffrey and stop himself from blushing. She smiled at him and her ears moved at the same time. It made Draco wonder at what else her ears could do, as well as have a self-perfuming talent. He scolded himself for thinking about his saviour's daughter that way, and looked down at his empty plate. He went to the sink and washed his plate up as Annie sat where he had and began eating the breakfast that Geoffrey had laid aside for her.

Draco dismissed himself and went to sit on his bed, and sort through his head. He was totally confused at the moment. In his current situation, everything he had ever known was being proved totally wrong! Muggles weren't inferior to wizards - if anything, he had met much nicer muggles than he had wizards! Clearly, Voldemort hadn't won the Battle, or otherwise the world would be run by the Dark Wizard himself, so Potter must have won. Draco had always felt a strong dislike towards 'The Chosen One', but at that moment that strong sense was almost non-existent. Draco was happier than he ever been in his life – which wasn't saying much - so there was no need to be angry with anybody – apart from his father.

There was a small chest of drawers at the end of the bed, and Draco opened the top drawer. In it sat a small thing no bigger than his palm wrapped in a silk handkerchief. He unwrapped the handkerchief and there was a small book, with a little water damage on the corner. This had been in his pocket when he had jumped into the river yesterday. He opened it on the first page. There was a drawing that Draco had done when he was very young – maybe six or seven. It was of his Mother. It wasn't very good. In fact, it was goddam awful, but Draco was quite affectionate towards it, so he hadn't torn it up.

He flipped through a few pages, and then saw a little passage of writing. It read:

A forgotten path leads towards a burial ground

Concealed by overgrowth and rotting leaves.

A pale ghost weeps loudly for the mound,

His shoulders shaking as he grieves.

Gone she is, the effect is profound,

The bargain is mean; a cold heart the ghost receives.

Draco felt tears welling up in his eyes. He had written this when he returned to the place his mother died, a month after turning 21.

_It was cold and dark, very much like the last time he had been here. When they died. He was glad he came, though. It gave him a chance to be near his mother and let her know that he still cared. He avoided twigs and leaves, to keep the atmosphere as peaceful as possible. He remembered this place. He must be getting near. He pushed aside a large bit of overgrown bush, and stopped in his tracks. This was the place. He looked around, and then fell to his knees. There were two mounds, both with a slab of stone along the top. He scrambled over to the mounds and looked closely at the slabs of stone. One read;_

_Narcissa Black_

_Youngest of Cygnus and Druella Black_

_Married to Lucius Malfoy_

_Mother to Draco Lucius Malfoy_

_May she Rest in Peace_

Draco had ignored the other one. He had known what it was. He cried, seeing the effort that somebody had gone through to make this grave. It hadn't been him. He hadn't a wand to make a grave, nor anything else. That had been the hardest thing he had ever had to do. To leave his parents, dead, in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, with no grave, had been the thing that had broken his heart. They would rot or be eaten by the various wild animals that lived here. Draco hadn't had the strength to carry one of them, let alone two, so he had had no choice but to leave them there. It had been terrible for him, walking away and getting further away with each step.

He had had terrible nightmares the night he walked away from them. They all were about his father, coming after him with his cane which Draco needed, but never wanted to see again. Every night, the nightmares got progressively worse, until they got so bad that Draco wouldn't sleep. After four sleepless nights, Draco had found a way to sleep on the verge of consciousness. He had dreams, but they weren't half as bad as the previous ones. He got _some_ sleep, however minimal. Enough to survive. He had found the village of Killin, where a very kind family gave him food, but no more than that. He wasn't surprised. He must have looked like a madman, with sleep deprivation and so on.

Draco sighed, and flipped the page.

More drawings, more little verses, all made and written by Draco. He smiled ruefully and then snapped the book shut and wrapped it back in the silk handkerchief. He replaced it in the top drawer. He walked back into the dining area, and saw Geoffrey just getting up from the small table.

"Ah, Draco, just in time," he said, looking up when Draco walked in, "Let's go and get your hair cut!"

Draco nodded his head, and went to get his shoes. He wiped a tear out of the corner of his eye as he walked down the corridor, knowing that nobody else had ever shown so much concern for him, not in a very, very long time.


	5. Chapter 4: The Fox

Hiya readers! I understand from reviews and PMs that most of you didn't like the last chapter, and thought that Annie wasn't a very likeable character. All I have to say is that I have a plot that has many twists and turns, and everything I write has a reason. And just for fun, I've put a funny little reference in the this chapter… let's see if any of you can spot it… hehe And please don't worry, the story _really_ gets into the swing of things in the next chapter…

Breakfast was tense on the morning of Hermione's departure to the Forest of Dean. Neither Ron nor Hermione would look at each other, being the stubborn characters they were. Hermione had finished her packing last night, and Ron had lost all control. They had had a blazing argument the evening before, and as usual, neither would lie low for the other person. And Hermione had been so happy that they had stopped arguing. Clearly it wasn't to last. She shot a glance at Ron who sat at the opposite end of the table, reading the Daily Prophet with a glower that could compete with Grawp in one of his tantrums.

His words from last night still rung in her ears. _You shouldn't go. It's too dangerous. You'll get hurt. They're trying to get rid of you, can't you see? You don't even know how long you'll be away for. What about me? What about Harry?_ What Hermione didn't understand was why Ron didn't seem to get the fact that she had already thought about all of that and more! Didn't he know that she loved him and didn't want to leave him behind, with no knowledge of when – or if – she would be back! She especially didn't want to leave him in such a sour mood. She decided to see if she could cheer him up.

"Ron-"she was interrupted as he dropped his cutlery on his plate of bacon and eggs.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, not looking at her. "You made your decision clear last night. What else do you want me to say? Have a nice trip?"

And with that, Ron discarded his daily Prophet and stalked away, out of the kitchen. Hermione sighed and put her heads in her hands. This was not what she wanted. She would have done anything to avoid this.

Leaving for an unknown amount of time was bad enough, but to have Ron angry with her at the same time just made her feel miserable. She got up and dumped her unfinished breakfast in the bin, as she found that her appetite was suddenly completely non-existent. Had she even felt hungry in the first place? Hermione didn't think so. She considered Ron's breakfast and dumped his too, seeing as she had just heard the crack of disapparition from the front room. He wasn't going to finish it. Hermione made her way to the bedroom. She glanced at the entrance hallway and there sat her one bag, a rucksack that had everything she could possibly need for this trip in it. She had used her undetectable extension charm on it and no one would think that she had everything. The only problem was that it was incredibly heavy.

She was packed, and the only thing left for her to do was wait for Marianne to collect her. Ron had tried his best to stop Hermione's bosses from allowing her to go, but they insisted that she was the best choice to go, considering her immense talent and her active petitioning for more rights for house elves. Harry had only arrived back from a convention in Algeria the night before, so he hadn't been able to put any of his large influence to good use. Harry had been very preoccupied about something and when asked what the convention had been about, he had mumbled something about "escapees from Azkaban" which confused Hermione, as Azkaban wasn't in Algeria. She sighed against the wall in the hallway and took a deep breath. She may as well forget about the trip and Harry's secret escapees.

She wandered to the sofa in the living room and sat down, picking up the nearest thing to hand. That turned out to be a pile of bills. Hermione flicked through the depressing pile and vaguely read through them. One of the figures drew her eye. A purchase had been made two months previously that amounted to 521 galleons, 15 sickles and 2 knuts. Hermione noticed this because that amount of money was equivalent to £1572.68. Hermione's jaw dropped. She certainly hadn't spent that much money, so Ron must have, but that was impossible! Ron had _never_ had that much money! And otherwise, what could possibly have cost that much money? She looked across to the description and it said, _Twilfitt and Tattings._ That was a _very_ upmarket shop, full of terribly expensive clothes and extortionately priced jewellery. It was located on the South side of Diagon Alley… something about that rang a bell. Ah, yes, that was it… Ron and Hermione had met Harry, Ginny and their child James, two months ago.

"Oh! Look! There they are, Ron! By Sugarplum's Sweet Shop!" Ron and Hermione had made their way slowly over to Harry and Ginny; slow due to the crowded mass along the street – Celestina Warbeck had just released her new autobiography in Flourish and Blotts – when finally they managed to catch up with them.

"Harry! Ginny!" Ron exclaimed, pulling them both into a tight hug. James made a gurgling noise, and Ron hurriedly let go. He had not realised that James had been there – which Hermione thought was pretty dim of him. Hermione noticed that both Harry and Ginny were looking very tanned, obviously due to their holiday in Spain, just the other week.

"Ron! Hermione! It's wonderful to see you! How are you both?"

Hermione replied, "We're great! My Rune Translation of the Tales of Beedle the Bard has been accepted by the publishers and it should be in the shops very soon!"

Ginny squealed excitedly and gave Hermione a tight hug. "At last! You've waited so long for this! That's fabulous news! Congratulations!"

Harry smiled at her and said "We all knew it was going to happen. You're amazing at everything – they would have been stupid to reject you." Hermione smiled back at her best friend holding his new-born son, and she felt her heart melt a little. Hermione was overjoyed to see Harry so comfortable with his life now, especially seeing as he hadn't really had much of a life until he came to Hogwarts.

"Where shall we go then? I'm hungry." Ron said, making all of them roll their eyes.

"I booked a table at the Ice Cream Parlour. We should head over there in ten minutes," Ginny spoke up, glancing at her watch, "But, first, I have to get something from in here." Ginny slipped inside the sweet shop.

"How she has that much energy is a mystery to me. I don't know where she gets it from. I can hardly get a good night's sleep with this little menace!" Harry marvelled, shaking his head. James yawned and stretched his arms. Hermione was overcome by how cute this little baby was.

Ginny popped out a minute later and they wandered around Diagon Alley, popping into various shops and browsing at market stalls selling little trinkets, jewellery, fresh fruit and second hand books. Hermione breathed in the atmosphere of Diagon Alley. It was full of so many memories, and it was just the best place to be when meeting your fiends – or in-laws, whatever way you looked at it – who had just come back from a holiday which meant you hadn't seen them in ages. Hermione bought a book from a stall called "Essays on Ancient Runes Roots" which looked very interesting to her, but all of the others seemed to sigh and look at her like she was weird or something. It never failed to confuse her how they couldn't find this like this interesting. Hermione let it go, though, because soon enough it was time for them to have an ice cream at the parlour. Ginny got toffee and caramel flavour with butterscotch on top, Hermione got Italian nut with Lychee and a fruit syrup, and Ron chose a Bertie Botts assortment which gave you a random flavour with every bite. Harry chose chocolate and raspberry flavour with chopped nuts which seemed to make him smile a small smile to himself. He shared his with James, who then went and got it all over his face. Harry swore he had no idea how. Ginny cast a quick spell and the mess was gone, leaving James with wide eyes and his mouth open a little. Once everyone had finished their ice creams, they sat and chatted for a while, to catch up. Then came a little pause in conversation, and Hermione couldn't help herself. James' face was too cute.

"Can I hold James?" she asked, and Harry smiled at her.

"I thought you'd never ask!" and he handed his son over to her. James stood on her lap and put his tiny, tiny hand on her cheek, and then he started to fiddle with her hair. She laughed, and James smiled with two dinky teeth just beginning to show. He was so cute!

"Oh, Ginny, Harry, he's gorgeous! How do you resist his charm?" she exclaimed, holding James steadily under his arms.

"Oh, quite easily, I assure you! He keeps us up half the night; you could easily deny him things, just from pure lack of sleep!" Ginny replied, clearly not meaning a word of it.

"Oh Ron, you have to hold him! He's terribly cute!" Hermione said, bouncing James on her knee. Ron refused hurriedly, saying that he was sure he would drop him and he didn't want to kill the Chosen One's first-born.

"Oh don't be stupid Ron. If anything, you're too frightened of me to dare let go of him!" Ginny laughed. Hermione handed James over carefully, but Ron took him with even more care. He did it in slow motion, his tongue poked out of his mouth with effort. It was actually very funny. The way Ron held James gingerly but tenderly made a tear well up in Hermione's eye. Then, her decision was made. She wanted a baby. Ginny took a quick picture before Ron had time to say "Merlin's pants!" Ron turned beetroot red, but started to play with James on his knee. James squealed with delight, and they played happily together, Harry joining in. Hermione and Ginny chatted on, still with lots to say to each other. Then, James appeared on Hermione's lap, and harry and Ron were standing.

"Umm, Harry and I have to go down to South Side. We'll be back in around half an hour. See you later!" Ron said shiftily, and after he gave Hermione a quick peck on the cheek, he was off with Harry without another word.

"Ah, boys," Ginny sighed. "Secrets secrets! Harry has this convention in Algeria soon, and he won't tell me properly what it's even about! Ah, well."

Hermione hadn't heard much of what Ginny had said, because James was crawling on her. He seemed to want to sit on her shoulder, so she had helped him.

"Ginny, James hasn't cried at all, yet you say that he keeps you up all night…"

"Oh, no, it's not crying! James doesn't cry all that much. He just has unbelievable amounts of energy. We put him in his cot, and a minute later, he's found his way out again, and we have to chase him around the house to put him back. Then, when he finally seems to have settled down, we go to bed to get some well needed sleep, and then James has found his way out again! He seems impervious to all blocking charms we put up on his crib! It's mad! I don't know where he gets it from…" Ginny replied, shaking her head. Hermione smiled to herself, remembering just an hour before, when Harry had said more or less the same thing, except about Ginny. Ginny and Hermione paid the bill with the money Harry had set aside for that purpose, and they went browsing on the stalls again. Hermione couldn't help herself and bought some delicious looking fruits that the seller claimed to have come from France. She shared them with Ginny and James had a few too. Ginny bought a cute necklace for herself, and a beautiful little bracelet for James. It was made of robust leathery string, and had little wooden beads and charms that the stall owner said protected you from harm. But Ginny didn't buy it for that. Hermione had to admit, James did look so very cute with it on his wrist. He laughed, and began sucking on it immediately. They wandered around, and then, after a long while, bumped into Ron and Harry.

Ron swept her into a hug, and she leaned into his embrace.

'Where have you two been?' Ginny asked, shuffling James on her hip.

'Nowhere,' Harry replied lightly, and Hermione narrowed her eyes at the two of them. She had known them since they were only eleven years old, and even now they both seemed to quail under her scrutiny. But then Ron hugged her again.

'Don't worry, Hermione! Please, don't worry about it.'

With a sigh, Hermione slipped her arm around Ron's waist and the four of them plus little James continued on their way. It was getting late and James was becoming restless, grizzling and crying at intervals, and Ginny was becoming more and more harassed as she tried to soothe him. Harry wrapped his arm around his wife and child and turned to say goodbye to Ron and Hermione.

By now James was wailing, they all hugged goodbye rapidly, then the Potters turned and Disapparated. Hermione and Ron then did the same, Disapparating home. As soon as they arrived Ron hurried into their bedroom while Hermione headed to the kitchen to make coffee.

At the time Hermione had thought nothing of it, but was that what they'd been hiding? Hermione heard the front door open, and she shoved the papers onto the coffee table, where they had been before. Hermione stood up and ran to the hallway. There stood Ron, his hair a little windswept. Hermione ran into him and pulled him into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't change anything now, and I know that you tried, and I know you don't want me to go, and I don't want to go either, because it would mean leaving you behind, but I have just want you to know that I love you, Ron. And in the Amortentia potion, I smelt your hair. There, I said it." Hermione gushed it all out with one breath, knowing that if she stopped for one, she wouldn't start again. Ron hugged her back, and said,

"I love you too, Hermione, and I know I don't say it enough, but I do. And, I suppose, I'm just going to have to accept that you _are_ going. I'm sorry too. And I love you. In the Amortentia, I smelt your perfume."

Hermione felt a slight thrill at the thought that Ron smelt her. She wondered if he had felt that same thrill.

"Really?" she asked.

"Honestly." He replied. Then Ron reached into his pocket, and withdrew a little box of blue velvet.

"Hermione," Ron drew himself up to his full height, and continued, "Hermione, I had other plans for this month, but as things are, you're going away with no idea of the risks, what'll happen to you, or how long you'll be gone… so… just in case... something happens… I want you to have this." Ron handed her the blue velvet box. Hermione took it gingerly, and took the top off the box. When she saw what was inside, her jaw dropped. It was a silhouette of a fox, made of pure diamond. It was attached to a silver chain, and it was beautiful. Hermione took the necklace out of the box, and asked Ron to help her with it. He fastened the chain, and the fox touched her skin. It was very cold, almost unnaturally so, and it made Hermione shiver slightly. Once it was done, Hermione turned and kissed Ron.

"Thank you so much, Ron! It's really beautiful! How did you get it?" she asked, knowing how much this had cost. She felt rather bad that he had spent so much money on it.

"Ummm… well… I have saved… for a long time…"

"And how long would that be?" Hermione asked, worried about the answer she was going to get.

"Well… ever since I left school…" Ron replied, turning red.

"Oh Ron! You didn't have to!"

"Well I wanted to." He said, facing the floor. Hermione kissed him again, and then hugged him. Suddenly the doorbell rang from behind them, making them both jump. Hermione stepped slowly to the door, and opened it cautiously. There stood Marianne Squibble, impatiently tapping her foot.

"Ah, Hermione. It's time to go."


End file.
